


The Rook Defends the Bishop

by The Author (Yours_The_Author)



Series: Feathered Friends [3]
Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Azran Legacy Spoilers, Chess, Chess Metaphors, Feathered Friends, In Reference to their UK Names, Leon Bronev (Mentioned) - Freeform, M/M, Macaw's Last Name is Rook, Robin's Last Name is Bishop, Slowly Getting More Romantic, Swift is Nicer than He Lets On, Targent, These Two Need More Content, Two-Man Group Program, workplace shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_The_Author/pseuds/The%20Author
Summary: After being assigned to guard the boss's office in The Nest, Macaw leaves for less than five minutes and comes back to Robin making a mess of the boss's prized chess board. He's quick to help his partner fix it, but then the second in command walks in. Macaw, again, is quick to help Robin, but is it enough for the wrath of right-hand man Swift?
Relationships: Macaw/Robin (Professor Layton)
Series: Feathered Friends [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838968
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	The Rook Defends the Bishop

**Author's Note:**

> *Holds up a Feathered Friends fic in reverence* It’s been 3,000 years…  
> -  
> So hey I’m back yay. This one took me all day to write, but my little sister gave it the stamp of approval, so I’m going to go ahead and post it. I think I’m getting just a little better at hinting at romance, but I’m not good at, like, being outright with it? I don’t know, tell me what you people think. I’ll see you at the bottom of the page.  
> -  
> Also, this should go without saying, but minor spoilers for Professor Layton and the Azran Legacy.

For all its show of weaponry and brute strength, Targent is, at its center, an organization based on intelligence. Targent searches for any information on the Azran civilization it can find, using any means necessary to obtain it and get closer to discovering the ancient legacy. Its military-like power and organization are used primarily for the pursuit of knowledge.

As such, the higher ups of Targent have a fondness for expanding and practicing their intellect. Puzzles are a simple but effective way to do so, and take the form of everything from an elaborate hydraulic lock on an important door to a deceptively basic game of chess.

Guarding the boss’s empty office while he was busy overseeing a mission was, admittedly, not the most interesting job in the world, probably because you weren’t supposed to touch anything besides the door and window locks. To a member of Targent, being in a room full of historical artifacts was like a child in a candy shop being told the results of touching any of the wares was worse than death. Still, one could hardly be blamed for the temptation to practice their strategy on the boss’s prized chess board.

That, or Robin had simply wanted to play with the chess pieces, and Macaw knew him well enough at this point to know which it was.

Robin Bishop was holding a black chess piece in each hand, blissfully unaware of Macaw Rook gaping at him from the entrance to the boss’s office. The rest of the pieces, once arranged perfectly in their correct places, were now mixed together, facing Robin like an audience watching a presentation. Robin would lift the piece in one hand (a black rook) and quietly whisper some dialogue. Then he’d lift the other piece (a black bishop) and have it reply to the first piece. Occasionally, the two pieces would be tapped together repeatedly (were they fighting? Hugging? _What could be the symbolism?)_

“Robin, what are you _doing?_ ” Macaw hissed, realizing his mistake too late. Robin jumped wildly, sending the board and piece flying with a clatter onto the floor. Macaw cringed at the noise as Robin looked up at him like a deer in the headlights of a tank. _Of course,_ he thought. _The first time we’re assigned something important together, and it goes wrong as soon as I leave the room to use the loo._

“H-h-hi, Macaw!” Robin stuttered. He hid the two pieces he was still holding behind his back, as if that would conceal the situation. “B-back already?”

“Robin, I would throw us _both_ out of the window if breaking a window in the boss’s office didn’t mean our bodies would given to the sharks. What were you _thinking?_ ” Robin flinched at Macaw’s tone. Macaw rubbed his temples and took a deep breath. “What were you thinking?” he asked again. Robin looked between the chess pieces in his hands and the scattered ones on the floor. “It looked like you were playing dolls.”

“I WASN’T!” Robin yelped. Macaw’s hands shifted from his temples to his ears. “I-I was… strategizing!”

“Strategizing… by playing dolls?”

“I was p-practicing… a conversation.”

“A conversation?” Macaw thought for a moment. “Well… I suppose that’s one way to go about it. Goodness knows you could use some practice with communicating with the higher ups, and—wait, we can talk about that later! Listen: be very, _very_ careful, and help me put the chess board and pieces _exactly_ where they were _before_ you touched them. Do you understand?”

“Yes!” Robin saluted. “I can do that!”

“Good, because our well-being may depend on it.”

“Oh.” Robin’s demeanor changed from enthusiastic to forcibly restrained. “I’ll be on super-careful mode.”

Were it not for the potential doom of the situation, Macaw would have breathed a laugh at Robin’s choice of words. There would have to be time for that later, if they were lucky.

Macaw carefully set the chessboard on its table, doing as well as he could without a ruler to make sure it was perfectly centered. Robin began to pick up the pieces one by one, doing a quick once over to be certain that none of the pieces had chipped. Macaw was sure the pieces were more durable than that, but they both knew it was much better to be safe than sorry. Once Robin made sure the pieces were in perfect condition, he’d pass them to Macaw, who would center the piece in its correct square. They worked silently (was Robin even breathing?) until the board look perfectly picturesque. Macaw slowly guided Robin away from the chess board until they were standing in the middle of the office, a good few metres away from all of the furniture in the room. _Then_ he said, “I think we did it.”

Robin let out his breath with enough gusto to knock over a house made of sticks. “I THOUGHT IT WOULD NEVER END!” He cried out, waving his arms above his head and skittering his feet in a frantic jig.

Macaw waited until Robin had gotten all of his repressed energy out. “Now, what did we learn?” _What am I, his mother?_

Robin put his hands behind his back. “Don’t touch any of the boss’s things?”

“Exactly.” It was quiet for a moment, aside from the wind rattling the windows slightly. “…Why were you practicing a conversation, anyway?”

“It seemed symbolically appropriate,” Robin replied.

_Did… he want to practice a conversation with me?_ “But why would you need dolls?”

“They weren’t dolls! They were action figures, if anything!”

“Semantics, but alright. Why did you need action figures?” Robin looked a little sheepish. _Hoo boy,_ Macaw thought.

“I’m… weird.”

“…Okay?”

“Other people can just hear orders or read instructions and know what to do, but I like it when there are pictures that explain everything. It’s just easier to understand that way.”

“…Is that all?”

Robin looked at him, seeming genuinely confused. “…Yes?”

“That just means you’re a visual learner. Pictures and diagrams mean more to you than words alone. It’s not all that strange.”

“It isn’t?”

“Not at all.”

“…Oh.” Robin twisted the toe of his boot into the floor. “I always thought it was.”

It occurred to Macaw that a majority of instructions given by Targent leaders were auditory or written. Clearly, Robin could read and understand spoken words, but if he needed a way to visualize information… “How about this?” Macaw offered, earning Robin’s rapt attention. “When we get our next mission, I can draw out step-by-step instructions for what we need to do, so that you can see it. That might help you work through missions better, and I’ll be with you to show you how to do the work we’re given. What do you think?”

Robin was giving him _that look_ again, as if he had discovered the secrets of the Azran legacy himself. Macaw covered his mouth with his hand, imitating a facepalm. In reality, he was hiding a small smile that he couldn’t find it in himself to fight.

The door to the office opened, just short of slamming into the wall. Robin yelped and flailed a bit while Macaw immediately stood at attention. The boss’s right-hand man, Swift, strode in. “At attention, Bishop,” he snapped at Robin, who finally stood still. “Your shift is over for the night. The next two-man group will be arriving in a few minutes to take your place, so you’ll be relieved of your duties until further notice—what happened.”

“NOTHING!” Robin shouted before Macaw could do anything. _Maybe having our glass-filled bodies fed to the sharks wouldn’t be so bad,_ he thought.

Swift glared at Robin. “I knew it; something happened. I could tell as soon as I looked you in the eyes.”

“But I’m wearing sunglasses—”

“SHUT UP!” Swift’s gaze shifted to Macaw. “What. Did. He. Do?”

Macaw usually took pride in thinking things through before acting. He had never thought of improvisation as being his strong suit, but he had been learning a lot of things that evening. “It was me, sir.”

Robin gaped at him while Swift remained still. “…You?” he asked quietly.

“I bumped into the chess table when I was heading for the window. I had Bishop help me put the pieces back into their proper places just before you entered. I take full responsibility.”

“Come with me.” Swift jerked his head towards the door. Robin made to follow them. “NOT you.” Robin froze. “You will stay in this room and not. Touch. _Anything._ Rook will be coming with me. We will not be long.”

Macaw followed Swift out of the office, who slammed the door behind them and ushered him several metres away from the door. Far enough that Robin wouldn’t hear everything, Macaw realized, but close enough for him to hear Swift’s soon-to-be-raised voice, and so he wouldn’t try to escape without being caught. Macaw braced himself.

“I know you’re lying.”

Macaw blinked.

“Are you honestly stupid enough to believe you can lie to _me?_ I’ve known you for years, and very rarely are you clumsy, and _never_ are you clumsy with the boss’s possessions. Tell me what actually happened, or you’ll be—” Swift paused. “Or else _Bishop_ will be punished. Now _speak._ ”

_No point in hiding anything now… How is he so good at reading people?_ “Bishop was playing with the chess board by himself and knocked it over when I startled him. I had been in the restroom when I found him.”

“You left him alone. In the boss’s office.”

“I take full—”

“Shut up and continue.”

“After he had calmed down, we put the board and pieces back where they had been, as close to their original places as possible. We had been talking for a few minutes about why he had been playing with the chess pieces when you entered.”

“Why was he playing with the chess pieces?”

“He was practicing a conversation and using the chess pieces as models for the speakers.”

“…He was playing _dolls?_ ”

“Yes, sir.”

Swift stepped away from Macaw, hunching over slightly and growling into his hands like a furious chimera. Macaw didn’t move.

After a few agonizingly slow seconds, Swift lowered his hands and stood in front of Macaw. “And you felt the need to lie _because…?_ ”

This is where Macaw’s reasoning threw itself out a window. “I…” _Why_ did _I lie about it?_ “R… Bishop is my partner. Partners take care of each other. He needed help, so, I helped… sir.”

It was absolutely silent, their breaths holding no volume. “…It seems to me that Bishop doesn’t take care of you in return.”

“But he does, sir.”

“…How?”

“He… makes me feel… happy.”

Swift stared at him for a long time. Then he looked up at the ceiling and drew out a long sigh. “I’m docking both of your salaries, neither of you will be allowed alone in the boss’s office again, and I don’t want to hear a word from you for the rest of the day without express permission. Do you understand?” Macaw nodded. “Good. I’ll fetch your bird-brained partner. Wait here.” He turned and entered the office again without waiting for a response.

Macaw stood there for about five seconds.

“ROOK!” Swift yelled. “GET IN HERE!”

_Robin, you egg; what did you do this time?!_ Macaw quickly entered through the still open doors.

Swift was the only person in the office. “Bishop did not leave this room, which means he’s hiding. Find him and get out.” Swift was standing by the desk, so Robin couldn’t have been hiding under it. There wasn’t a lot of other furniture to hide under in the room, so unless he had managed to climb out the window and cling to the side of the building…

Macaw scanned the room, landing on the open doors to the office. The door on his left wasn’t completely against the wall like the door on his right; considerably so. _He would, wouldn’t he?_ Macaw pointed at the door for Swift to see, the walked towards it. He lightly knocked on the door before moving it enough to see behind it. Sure enough…

“Are you okay?” Robin whispered, peeking up at him in fear. Macaw nodded and gestured for him to step out from behind the door. Robin shook his head. “I want to hear you say it.”

Macaw blinked. Then he turned to Swift and pointed at his mouth. Swift huffed. “Fine. Say whatever you need to say to get him to leave. Gods of Azran, I’m not paid enough for this…”

Macaw returned his gaze to his partner. “Our pay is getting docked, we’re not allowed back in the boss’s office alone, and I’m not allowed to speak for the rest of the day after this. Other than that, we’re fine. We’re fine, Robin.” He closed the door enough for Robin to step into the open.

Robin shuffled forward like a punished school boy. “’m sorry, Macaw,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay,” Macaw replied.

Swift stepped over to them. “You should count your lucky stars that the boss isn’t here today and won’t be hearing about this, Bishop. It’s too much paperwork for me. You should also be thankful that you have a partner that’s willing to throw himself under the bus for you. Thank him properly.”

Macaw was immediately lifted off the ground. “HRNGK!”

“THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, MACAW!” Robin cried, giving his partner a spine crushing hug.

Macaw awkwardly patted him on the back while trying to breathe. Swift buried his face in his hands, muttering “go. Just go.”

…

By the time they got to the front of the headquarters building, Macaw had an extra spine vertebrae and Robin had danced out all of his anxieties (thankfully _after_ putting Macaw down). “So… you can’t say anything at all for the rest of the day?”

Macaw nodded.

“Oh, okay. Then… can I just say…?” Robin took Macaw’s hands in his. “I… I think you’re really cool! And I like— I like that about you. Okay-I’m-going-to-go-now-BYE!” Robin barreled down the path to his quarters, arms flailing above his head.

Macaw watched him until he disappeared around a corner. Then he slowly looked at his hands. _I’m… cool?_ He covered his mouth with one hand. _…What an egg._

The Rook made his way to his quarters, exhausted but pleased with his move to protect the Bishop.

**Author's Note:**

> Macaw: *punching his head* What could be the symbolism? It just makes no SENSE! (Bonus points if you get that reference!)  
> -  
> Anyone who’s played with dolls/action figures probably knows what Robin was doing with those chess pieces. *Wink-wonk*  
> -  
> Swift is very tired and stressed, but I like to imagine that there’s a reason besides him being the second in command that Targent elected him to take over after Bronev left. I think he’s understanding of personal affairs (very personal) and can appreciate people who look after each other. After becoming the head of Targent and putting it “back on the right track”, he’d probably be a much less militarized and more forgiving leader. The kind of person who is focused on completing a mission, but won’t literally murder people who fall out of line in a minor way. (Did Bronev actually kill subordinates who failed? Maybe, maybe not. You decide, he’s in jail so we can’t ask him.)  
> -  
> Anyway, I don’t know when I’ll be back or what I’ll be back with, but hopefully it’ll be soon! The midpoint of the semester is coming up, so I might have some bigger projects to work on soon for school. I’ll open up shop when it’s open.  
> -  
> So, what did you think of this one? Leave a review and let me know. I’ll see you all later, eventually. Until then!


End file.
